


What A Drag

by LegendOfMischief



Category: Only Lovers Left Alive (2013)
Genre: Blood, Blood Drinking, F/M, Gen, Oops, Poetry, Vampire Bites, Vampire Turning, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-07 16:16:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16857268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegendOfMischief/pseuds/LegendOfMischief
Summary: After losing his connection to a clean source of blood, it’s been too long since Adam has last fed. His thirst gets the better of him and his “quick sip” ends with some long term consequences.





	What A Drag

****

**Poem Used:** Holy Sonnets: Death, be not proud  By[ John Donne](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.poetryfoundation.org%2Fpoets%2Fjohn-donne&t=NzUwZmY1Mzc5MGZkNmJmNTE3Y2U3MzEzYjNjNjRhYTBiMGY5ZTM5MixoR0ZxTk5BNw%3D%3D&b=t%3AZ95hSZoSYKwI5pWw2zmRMg&p=https%3A%2F%2Fwritemeashot.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F179611787489%2Fwhat-a-drag-adam-x-reader&m=1)

**Mood Music:** [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dbVR391HzT8&index=1&list=FL4HnZoQR0w1G_JXXeMWgCzQ](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DdbVR391HzT8%26index%3D1%26list%3DFL4HnZoQR0w1G_JXXeMWgCzQ&t=NTMzYjdiN2U5NTIwNTRlMTU1NTFhOGEzMmVkYWU1OWU2OGM5ODJiYixoR0ZxTk5BNw%3D%3D&b=t%3AZ95hSZoSYKwI5pWw2zmRMg&p=https%3A%2F%2Fwritemeashot.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F179611787489%2Fwhat-a-drag-adam-x-reader&m=1)

     As you exited the bookstore and turned to walk back home you tripped over an outstretched leg of a man, your just purchased treasures that had been clutched close to your chest land scattered on the ground as you fall across his lap. Hearing a soft chuckle you turn to look at his face as you move to a kneeling position. Making note of his messy black hair and eerie yellow-gold eyes for a moment before beginning to collect the fallen books.

“Shakespeare…it must be fate.”, the man lowly says after making note of your choice of literature.

     He moved so quickly you had just registered that he moved when a sharp pain of his teeth piercing your flesh prompted you to cry out. A leather glove met lips as the cry was muffled into nothingness, spots danced in your vision before consciousness was lost and you fell limp against his chest.

_“Death, be not proud, though some have called thee_

_Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;_

_For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow_

_Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.”_

     The male voice met you as you drifted in your mind, a sharp intake of breath out of habit before being following by a whimper of pain. Bones ached, flesh felt as if on fire, and lungs felt as if there was not enough air to satisfy. Darkness lured you back into her depths.

_“From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,_

_Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,_

_And soonest our best men with thee do go,_

_Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery.”_

     As the pain ebbed into a icy numbness the rumble of his voice grounded you. Murmured words left your lips, questions that likely made no sense though you felt like you needed to try to tell him that something was wrong with you. After a valiant effort you succumbed to your drowsiness.

_“Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,_

_And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,_

_And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well_

_And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?”_

     Woken suddenly this time your fists clench before you hug yourself with a gasp, the clawing hunger at your stomach like nothing you’d ever experienced. A cry of agony passed your lips before your hands moved to cover your ears as the sound seemed louder than it ought to be. The hunger caught your attention yet again, sitting up was a struggle and you fell to the floor as you lost the battle with your body. A heavy sigh came from somewhere in the room, your gaze sluggishly wandered to a man sitting in a chair next to the couch you had been upon. He looked familiar but everything was out of focus due to the gnawing hunger and you felt tears prick at your eyes. He offered you a red solo cup which you took more eagerly than you’d have liked, and you downed the red cool-aid within. Willing to consume anything to make the ache go away. It wasn’t until the last drops were on your tongue that you noticed the metallic taste and the prick of teeth in your mouth that were sharper than they should be. A shiver ran through your body before with widened eyes you met his amused golden pair, though his expression was otherwise quite solemn.

_“One short sleep past, we wake eternally_

_And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.”_

     You knew those lines and your brow furrowed as you bullied your mind into bringing forth the memory.

“Death, be not proud, John Donne.”, you said as your curious gaze remained fixed on him.”Who are you?”

     A toothy, playful grin formed and revealed fangs while gold eyes lit up for a moment before his expression returned to apathy.

“Adam.” 

——————————

     You turned your gaze to Eve after finishing the story, “And that was when he made me.”

     She leaned her head on your shoulder while a smile played at her lips.

“Poetry, yes that does sound like Adam.”, she finally spoke after taking in the lapping of the waves that stretched in front of you both.

     You gave a chuckle, followed by a sigh as the notes of music drifted from the condo behind the both of you to meet your ears.


End file.
